


down in the river

by somethingradiates



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, idk you can read it as gen if you're really determined, temporary baby acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingradiates/pseuds/somethingradiates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The baby's been crying for five, maybe ten minutes when he finally sits up. She's fussed off and on all night, and she sounds as tired as Beth does when she says <i>Judy, Judy, shh, sweetheart, you're gonna wake up your daddy.</i> And maybe Daryl wouldn't admit it to nobody, but maybe that's what gets him on his feet, padding cat-quiet down the stairs to the outside of Beth's cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down in the river

It's hard to know what time it is anymore. 

Well - not for Daryl, not so much; he never got used to the luxury of cell phones like the rest of them, never got accustomed to being told what time it was instead of having to figure it out himself. 

He just knows it's real late - or real, real early, if you're a glass-half-full kinda person, which Daryl ain't, generally speaking. He's taken to sleeping in one of the guard towers, but tonight's different; he's been stretched out in a top cell for maybe three hours, watching the light coming out of the east change colors as it starts to creep across the cement floor. 

The baby's been crying for five, maybe ten minutes when he finally sits up. She's fussed off and on all night, and she sounds as tired as Beth does when she says _Judy, Judy, shh, sweetheart, you're gonna wake up your daddy._ And maybe Daryl wouldn't admit it to nobody, but maybe that's what gets him on his feet, padding cat-quiet down the stairs to the outside of Beth's cell. 

"Lemme take her," he says, keeps his voice down low, quiet enough that he's almost surprised Beth can hear him over Judy's squalling. "I ain't sleepin' nohow, I can walk her 'round outside a little bit, maybe get her calmed down some."

It must be a mark of how damn tired Beth really is (and if Daryl looks close enough he can see it even in the dark, the blue-purple bags under her eyes, but it ain't any concern of his, anyhow - Beth's got a daddy to fuss over her) that she hands Judith over without much of anything. "She don't need changed," is all she says, "or fed," and Daryl glances over his shoulder as he turns to leave - she's already stretching out on her side, eyes closed. 

"C'mon, sweetheart," he says, turns back to the baby, braces Judith with one hand cupped around her bottom and one up against her back - she's gripping a tiny handful of his t-shirt, making unhappy little noises as he takes her up the stairs. 

"S'your daddy's shirt," he mumbles, "that why you keep on grabbin' it, huh?" She likes to be talked to, everybody's figured that out by now, talked to and sung at - not read to, and Daryl thinks maybe that makes Carol sad. _That was Sophia's favorite,_ he remembers her saying once, quiet and thoughtful. _I mean -_

_I know,_ Daryl remembers saying, too quick and too rough, but she had looked a little less - troubled. 

"C'mon now," he continues, keeps his voice low and easy, opens the door to the catwalk up top - "let's go on outside, now, see what these ugly sumbitches are up to, huh?" He ain't gonna bring her nowhere near any of them, obviously, and they're far enough away from the fences that he can't even really see them unless he looks too hard. For a minute he worries the noise might bother her, make her fuss - and then it occurs to him that she's used to it, probably. She ain't ever known different, not even in Lori's belly. 

Judith squalls - he's gone quiet and she don't like it. Maybe she really don't like the growling. "I know," he says, shushes her a little, "yeah, darlin', I know, I ain't a big fan neither," and for a little while he can keep that up - he drops _fuck_ once and spends a couple minutes telling her about how _God-dern mad your daddy would be if he heard me talkin' like that around his baby girl_ , but even that wears out after a little bit. 

"Shit, girl," he says, "guess I didn't think this through, I ain't ever had a whole lot to say," and right as he lets himself go quiet Judith writhes a little in his arms and squawks, her whole face scrunching up. 

"Nope," he says, "no, no, honey, here, I ain't very good at none of this but - you like The Band? Huh? I don't figure they's one of Beth's usuals, but maybe you ain't gonna hate 'em. My ol' brother - I had a big brother one time, like you got Carl now - he liked this song, here, that's how come I know it." 

Merle didn't listen to a whole lot of music; what he did listen to was usually more Hank Williams Jr. than The Band - son of a bitch couldn't even listen to the right Hank, but Daryl won't hold that against him - but he drove truck for a year or two and Daryl can remember _Up On Cripple Creek_ being on pretty heavy rotation for a while. He knows most of the words; he doesn't remember the third verse but Judith doesn't seem like she cares too much when he gives up and goes through the chorus again. 

He's quiet - not like anybody inside can hear him - and she's still awake when he's done, so he goes into _The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down_ instead of repeating himself - _and like my brother before me, I took a rebel stand,_ pacing up and down the catwalk, up and down, back and forth. Judith is awake when he chances a look, but she's not fussing, so maybe he's won halfway, at least. 

"What next," he says, "what next, huh? I don't know too many songs, here, darlin'. Gonna have to start singin' church music if you don't hush up and get to sleepin'." 

Judith squawks.

"Hell," Daryl says. 

The problem, he realizes pretty fast, is that most of the songs he knows are about a minute and a half long - they also ain't really suited for a hillbilly that can't actually sing, but Judith seems to like it and he ain't singing for anybody else to hear him, so. He sings about how he's a blue Kentucky girl for a couple minutes, 'til he forgets the rest of the words - and he really can't think of nothing after that, turns to church songs instead. _How Beautiful Heaven Must Be_ and _If I Could Hear My Mother Pray Again_ and _Down In The River To Pray_. 

"Them was all my mama's favorite songs," he says, quiet. "I ain't sure what your mama liked. Guess it probably ain't my place anyhow." Lori didn't seem like the kinda lady to be real into white-trash gospel, he thinks. Judith hums a little against his shoulder and he hums back, mumbles most of _I'll Fly Away_ , and he's not sure if he's surprised or not that he remembers all the words to that one in particular. "Oughta find Glenn a banjo 'stead of a guitar, huh," he says, keeps walking. 

The sun's starting to come up for real this time, and Judith is breathing against his shoulder, head turned so she's facing the sun. Daryl strokes his thumb over her downy hair. He wishes he knew more songs, or at least wishes he hadn't sung damn Cripple Creek to her. 

The door opens, swishes slow against the concrete, and Daryl turns around careful, mindful of Judith finally sleeping against him. Rick blinks a little bit blearily in the new light, smiles right as soon as he sees them, Judy nestled up against Daryl's shoulder. 

"Mornin'," Daryl says, just above a whisper. His throat aches a little, pointedly reminds him that he ain't shut up for the better part of an hour. Maybe less - he don't remember the sun rising that slow before. 

"Mornin'," Rick says, and Daryl's walking towards him anyway but Rick closes the gap, leans in, slips one arm low and loose around Daryl's ribs, draws him in. Daryl breathes in, once, twice, slow. Rick smells like sleep and safe and quiet. 

"Beth said you was out here with her," Rick says into his neck. Daryl nods a little, then says _yeah_ instead, says _I couldn't sleep anyway, figured - figured Beth could use the rest, didn't want Judy wakin' the rest of y'all up._

"You didn't have to do that," Rick says, but there's no reproach in his voice. "Come on back inside. You think you're gonna get any sleep?" 

Daryl's the one to pull away. The door didn't shut all the way behind Rick, and he can hear Hershel talking, the others stirring. 

"Prob'ly not," he says, soft and honest. Used to be he'd lie a little bit, say sure, maybe, and end up laying alone in his bed for an hour or two, knowing all the while that sleep wasn't ever gonna come. 

Rick nods. "You can come down to the pens with me, then, help me patch a couple of the fences up," he says, "that boar pig chewed through one of 'em," and Daryl grins a little at the look on his face - the sun is showing the rest of the prison yard, now, the fields and the pig pens and the half-built corral that might house horses soon. They found a farm barely five miles east with six or seven horses still alive and it's been on Daryl's mind ever since - been a long time since he was astride something good and green.

"Let's get her down first," he says. He doesn't say _yeah, sure_ , doesn't agree with Rick; he doesn't need to, Rick knows it and he knows it himself. Maybe some other time it would piss Daryl off, Rick acting like he knows what Daryl wants, maybe in some other life - but it don't matter here, because Rick _does_ know, far as Daryl's concerned. 

"Yeah," Rick says, "maybe a good idea," and Judith sighs and snuffles against Daryl's shoulder, grips his shirt tighter in her little hand. Rick slips an arm around Daryl again, walks with him to the door before he lets go.


End file.
